The Lone Warrior

To wander this bleak land I’m doomed.

In loveless lonely mood I brood .

I settle by dead windswept tree and in darkening sky stare out to sea.

Somewhere across that vast expanse , I dream of an unknown woman dancing her archaic dance , dark eyes flash bright in firelight.

The one who’s touch could make things right , the one who loves with all her might and join your path for the rest of your life .

The coldness of the night draws in , disturbing pleasant dream again , the shifting mists within my mind , dissolve her face into one unkind, scared and hard , cut and torn that face could only be battle born.

The face is mine though I can barely tell , a face thats clearly been through hell , what terror now this vision brings I shudder at the sight of him.

A man bereft of love and life , a man with whom selfpity’s rife , no hope left in those dim dead eyes a man who faces the reapers scythe.

His soul is lost , no trace left of proud warriors past , each breath he wishes were his last.

His heart is empty like the land he wanders , bloodied and bruised on he blunders , haunted by a distant dream of a beautiful woman across the sea .

He has no coins he has no ship , so into the mists of time he slips .

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